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  “Hmm.” Professor Blake said again. She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. She did that sometimes when Heather dropped massive loads of information and it took her time to unpack it all. “That ‘thing’ last year?”

  Heather squirmed a little. “You know, the thing with the curse and the feather. The whole reason I’m here every week until I die of old age.”

  “I have faith that even you will graduate before that time, Miss Hayden,” said the professor. “So, Kai hates you because you accidentally cursed a boy you didn’t know at the time?”

  Professor Blake had a knack for spinning Heather’s words around and making them sound ridiculous. And why did she keep saying “hate” like it was a curse? “Whatever. Kai loathed me long before then anyway. She’s never been my friend.”

  Professor Blake opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. “We’ll come back to that. You said Owen can’t be your friend because of how Kai feels about you?”

  “I said he hates me,” Heather clarified. “He has to hate me.”

  “Right. So…then you have to hate him back?”

  This time, it was Heather who wasn’t sure how to respond. She should hate Owen, but she didn’t. Worse, she didn’t want to hate him. As long as he remained Kai’s bestie, there were no circumstances on earth under which Heather and Owen were allowed to be friends. Those were the rules.

  Whose rules? said a voice in her head.

  The school rules, thought Heather. Before the voice could argue that there was nothing in the Harmswood Handbook about such things, she added, My rules.

  So change the rules, said the voice.

  Professor Blake replaced her glasses, sliding them down her nose so that she could peer at Heather over the rim. If she noticed Heather’s little internal war with herself, she gave no indication.

  “Witches and cats have a long history of working very well together,” said the professor. “Plus, Owen’s background gives him rather a unique perspective on…well…everything. You could do worse than give him a chance.”

  “A chance at what?” Heather crossed her arms over her chest. Mother had taught her that there was only one thing boys would ever want from her. Two, if you counted her family’s fortune. And what sort of background could Owen possibly have that would make him worth knowing?

  “A chance to be your friend,” said Professor Blake.

  “Puh-lease,” said Heather. “I have enough friends, thanks. And even if I didn’t, I could do a lot better than Owen Litterbox. Being seen in public with him would be social suicide.”

  Professor Blake’s face became hard. “What have we discussed about being careful with your words?” She shook her head. “Words contain incredible amounts of power, Heather. In the short time you’ve been in my office, you’ve mentioned hate, death, suicide… I’d remove that last one from my vocabulary completely if I were you. Heather, you should not dismiss life so casually. Especially someone like you.”

  “You mean someone like me who is on the universe’s hit list,” said Heather.

  “No, child. I mean that someone like you—an intelligent young witch capable of harnessing immeasurable power—should have learned by now to think before she speaks.” Professor Blake shook her head. “You should know better.”

  After months of these meetings, Heather was bone tired of always being careful about this, or tiptoeing around that. She’d had no idea that she’d accidentally cursed Finn and his cousin in that bar back in Nashville. Okay…maybe she’d suspected something. But there was no way she could have known that Finn’s cousin was about to walk into the woods and get killed by a random bear. Nor could she have imagined that Kai Xanthopoulos would suddenly come into her powers and turn into some wrathful Greek Vengeance Fairy whose feathers could dole out ultimate justice. A feather that now, for better or worse, had Heather’s name on it. Heather could kick the bucket at any moment, if Fate decided she deserved it.

  “Fine,” said Heather. “I’ll give Litterbox a chance. But the second he barfs up a hairball, our partnership is officially over.”

  “Thank you, Heather.”

  Heather’s lip curled. Great. Now she was doing pity favors for the Head Witch. Her friends were going to treat her like she had leprosy. She was the unluckiest witch in the world.

  “Give me a talisman,” she told the professor. “Something that will keep my life from sucking so bad. Something that will turn me into a better person. Something that will keep me safe.” She hadn’t meant to add that last one, but she couldn’t take the words back once they were said.

  She really did need to get better about that.

  “I gave you one.” Professor Blake pointed to the silver crescent moon-and-star pentacle that hung in the hollow of Heather’s throat.

  Heather reached up and rubbed the cool metal of the star with her fingers, a habit she’d gotten into since receiving the pendant. “I don’t think it’s working.”

  Professor Blake smirked. “You’re not working.”

  “What?”

  The professor sighed. “I really was hoping that you’d figure all this out on your own in time, but it’s been months now. I swear, you’re the stubbornest, least responsible witch I’ve ever met.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said instinctively. It was the reply she always gave when Mother said the same things about her.

  “Don’t thank me,” said the professor. “I lied to you when I gave you that pendant last year. It’s not really from a third century ritual headdress.”

  Heather blinked. The Head Witch lied to a student? When her parents heard about this, they were going to eat Professor Blake for breakfast. “Do tell.”

  “I got it off the internet. It was supposed to be a gift for my niece, but you and I had our first meeting that day. You came in looking so defeated and vulnerable…and the necklace had just arrived in the mail… I decided you needed it more than Karyssa did.”

  Heather remembered that day. She had prepared the whole “vulnerable” act in advance so that Professor Blake would feel sorry for her and go easy on whatever punishment she’d planned. Apparently, Heather had played her part a little too well.

  “What did you get for your niece instead?” Heather asked, feigning concern.

  “I bought her something else. That’s not the point. You didn’t learn the lesson you needed to learn.”

  “Which was…?” Heather attempted, in the hope that Professor Blake would fill in the blank and move this meeting along. The cheer squad was meeting in the gym soon to start rehearsing the Thriller zombie flash mob. As squad captain, it would be nice if Heather arrived a little early.

  Professor Blake narrowed her eyes at Heather. “If you can point out the most powerful talisman in this office right now, you are welcome to walk out with it today.”

  Heather’s brows rose in surprise. Was she serious? Professor Blake was a great witch who no doubt possessed objects ten times more charmed than anything the average witch had lying about the house. This was an incredible offer. Too incredible.

  There had to be a catch.

  Heather scanned the professor’s messy desk and the shelves behind her laden with knick knacks. This task was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Which gave her an idea.

  The most powerful object in the room was probably not something flamboyant and obvious. It would be something more like a needle, plain but at the same time sharp and useful. That ruled out the scrying mirror and the crystal ball…and probably anything else made out of crystal, for that matter. It had to be “…something of little or no value. Something with a story behind it. Or lots of stories. Something that had a life of its own before settling here.” Heather realized she was speaking aloud again, without thinking.

  This time, Professor Blake did not scold her about it. Instead, she looked hopeful. “You’re on the right track.”

  “Are you hiding it in a drawer?” Heather asked.

  “No.”

  Heather s
canned the office frantically for something old. Something traveled. Something that had been worn down by time. Something that was no doubt…staring right at her. She pointed at the raven and enthusiastically exclaimed, “George!”

  The professor looked to the heavens for a moment, and then hung her head. “No.”

  Heather threw up her hands. “Can you please just tell me? Otherwise, we’ll be here all day.”

  “It is my job to teach,” said Professor Blake. “I feel like I have failed you.”

  Heather, who usually had an answer for everything, couldn’t think of any way to respond to that. So she said nothing.

  Finally, the professor sighed. “It’s you, Miss Hayden. The most powerful talisman in my office right now is you.” She shook her head gently. “I just wish you believed in yourself enough to recognize that.”

  Heather couldn’t believe her ears. It was like she’d been lifted up and taken down a peg at the same time. She was a talisman? She had a decent amount of power, yes, but when it came to power, Professor Blake had more, surely. Besides, how could someone be their own talisman?

  “Do you want the necklace back?” Heather whispered. She had hundreds of pieces of jewelry in her room, all of them more valuable than this cheap piece of whatever Professor Blake had bought with her teacher’s salary. But Heather had grown accustomed to the soothing feel of the metal beneath her fingers, the soft curve of the crescent moon, the sharp points of the star…

  Professor Blake waved a hand in the air. “Keep it,” she said. “It was my gift to you, which already classifies it as a charm. It’s more useful around your neck than it is lying in a box somewhere. May it serve as a reminder of what you should really be concentrating on. And speaking of”—she glanced at the hourglass-shaped clock of bones on the wall—“it’s time you start your meditation.”

  Still stymied, Heather responded only with, “Yes, professor.”

  From out of nowhere, Professor Blake lifted a lucite box and set it at the front of her desk. “You know what to do. I’ll set the timer. And please, no backtalk or I’ll just reset it.”

  Heather simply nodded. She pushed the leather chairs aside to reveal the rune-lined circle printed in the carpet. When she had settled in the middle of the circle with her legs crossed, back straight, and hands on her knees, Professor Blake flipped the clock upside down and resumed her paperwork.

  Heather closed her eyes and took three deep breaths to center herself, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.

  “Words spoken in anger, beware,

  A blessing is spoken with care.

  A witch-given gift is a charm,

  And ever we pledge: do no harm.”

  Heather said the chant so softly that she barely felt the words in the back of her throat. She repeated it three times before opening her eyes and staring at the object inside the lucite box.

  The feather.

  The feather that could seek vengeance upon anyone. The feather with the ability to take a life for a life. By all rights, Finn could have asked for Heather's life in exchange for his pack-brother's, but he had not. The feather was her responsibility now. If it was used to do harm in any way for the rest of Heather’s life, it would snuff out her life in less than a heartbeat.

  For all anyone else knew, the ragged, silver-gray thing might have fallen out of an aged pelican. But to a witch’s trained eye, it pulsed with magic. Even suspended in a vacuum inside that clear lucite box, the power of it raised goosebumps on Heather’s skin. The silky down along the quill shaft slowly waved in a nonexistent breeze. The sharp silver edge of the feather winked at her, reflecting a light in the room that had not moved.

  What kind of witch am I? Heather asked the feather.

  The feather did not answer.

  That nagging voice inside her head responded instead. You’ve been staring at that stupid feather for months, asking it the same question, and you still don’t have an answer. Why do you think the outcome would be any different now?

  I must persevere, thought Heather. I have to believe that one day this will work. Reluctantly she added, I have to believe in myself.

  Puh-lease, the voice mocked. You? You don’t believe in anything.

  Maybe I should, said Heather. Maybe if I keep staring at this stupid feather, one day I will.

  Nope, said the voice. You have to actually want to change before anything like that will ever happen.

  Maybe I want to change, Heather fought back. I can, can’t I? Professor Blake said I was my own talisman. If that’s really true, then maybe I can change myself. Maybe I can protect myself. Maybe I can make my own luck. Just thinking those words felt ridiculous.

  You’re on the right track, the voice said, quoting the professor.

  I hate you, thought Heather.

  Hate is just such a strong word, the voice quoted again.

  Stop being a pain in the butt, thought Heather.

  I’m not in your butt, argued the voice. I’m in your head.

  Then say something useful! Heather thought-screamed.

  Fine, the voice said in a huff. If Fate decided to use the feather and stop your heart today, right this very minute, what about your life would you miss the most?

  Heather knew what she was supposed to say: Family, friends, school…that sort of thing. But this conversation was happening all in her head right now. Professor Blake couldn’t hear a word. The office was shielded; no one beyond that door could read her mind. So for the first time in a very long time, Heather was honest.

  I would miss cheer squad, Heather answered. I would miss lunches with Poppy and Oleander. I would miss dancing. Not that she particularly cared about school functions, but they did afford her the opportunity to dance. Unbidden, the dance with Owen sprang into her mind. Heather allowed herself to relive the memory. Professor Blake and her office faded away, and Heather reveled for a moment in Owen’s peaceful embrace.

  The professor didn’t have to know about that either.

  I would miss all the life I haven’t lived yet, thought Heather. I’ve never been loved. I’ve never been anyone’s sun and moon and whole world. Maybe I was to my parents, once, briefly, in that year before Katy was born, but I was too young to remember it. How fair is that? If this conversation had been taking place in the real world, Heather might have shed a tear. Thankfully, it was not. I don’t even love myself, she added.

  Which is the biggest shame, said the voice. As a bellwether, you are admired by many. But until you know what you are and love yourself for it, you won’t be able to recognize that love in anyone else.

  Heather had no idea what the word “bellwether” meant. To the best of her knowledge, she had never heard the term before in her life.

  So…how could it pop up in a conversation she was having with herself?

  Heather felt soft fingers brush her cheek, where a tear might have been had it fallen. Heather turned her head and saw a woman sitting beside her. She had dusky skin and long black hair. Broad shoulders, long limbs, and big hands. Everything about her was streaked in silvery gray.

  Who are you? Heather asked without words.

  The woman smiled. Your guardian angel.

  “Time’s up.” Professor Blake’s voice pierced the silence. Heather blinked.

  The woman was gone.

  “Did you learn anything today?” Professor Blake asked as Heather lifted herself off the carpet.

  “I…I don’t know,” said Heather. “Maybe.” Maybe there hadn’t been a woman after all. Maybe Heather had fallen asleep while meditating and dreamed the whole thing. Maybe spores from George’s preserved carcass had gotten into her bloodstream and caused her to hallucinate.

  Stranger things had happened at this school.

  “Better luck next time.” Professor Blake moved the feather box back to wherever it had been hiding behind her desk. “See you next week.”

  Dazed, Heather picked up her book bag and slipped out the enormous oak door. She took a moment in the h
allway outside Professor Blake’s office to turn on her cell phone and compose herself.

  What had happened in there?

  Before she had a chance to think about it, her phone immediately started buzzing with saved texts. In her absence, Poppy and Oleander had carried on quite the conversation about Miss Sunshine’s incompetence. Instead of bothering to reply, Heather headed directly to the gym.

  Guardian angel or no, she didn’t want to be late for dance practice.

  3

  Owen decided to hide in the gymnasium.

  He’d never been particularly athletic. Sure, he’d enjoyed playing stones and cricket with the other boys in Egypt, but never during the day. It was just too bloody hot. The baron, as kind as he was eccentric, never complained about the length of time it took Owen to fetch his coffee or his hat or anything else, just as long as it arrived in the end. Owen enjoyed savoring life. Slowly. Preferably with good food and lots of naps.

  Life as a cat had only enhanced that enjoyment.

  He’d slipped out of Consumer Magics class quickly, with the knowledge that “Miss Sunshine” would be trapped teaching other classes. The only reason he was off to the gym now was because the school day was officially over, and that’s where Kai and Finn and Bellamy and the rest of his friends were headed.

  It was the last place anyone would look for him.

  “So what exactly happened in your Consumer Magics class?” Hubble Hobson asked aloud. “The rest of us didn’t have it until fifth period—by then everyone was buzzing. Did Miss Sub-shine really partner the Sith with the Jedi?

  As usual, Owen had no idea what Hubble was talking about. The rest of the group simultaneously burst out with vehement replies.

  “Poppy Flanders is a complete nitwit!” said Kai.